It’s been 10ish days since I signed consent for the clinical trial.
My tissue sample has been located – I’m picturing miles of grey filing cabinets in a long dank warehouse shrouded in clouds of frigid air – and sent for testing to see if I qualify as a candidate for the trial. Apparently those samples are kept forever. Since so many people are operated on, that’s a whole lot of tissue storage. I should get a response in another 10 days or so although, again, I’m not holding my breath.
In the meantime, something came to mind that my previous oncologist said to me. As if it was a concern for me, she assured me that she’d never give me a drug that hadn’t been trialled, tested, and proven to work in umpteen cases. That’s exactly what I didn’t want! I’m so glad I changed doctors.
It just goes to show, though, that everyone’s different. Even though they’re fairly equally qualified (I imagine), they serve very different sets of people. There’s a place for that doctor I inherited 3 years ago – she helps patients who really need her to make strong recommendations for them and to guide them through their process. I don’t need that; I need an advisor to answer my questions (because I don’t have the time or inclination to go study to become a specialist myself) and who’ll let me make my own choices – like choosing a semi-proven immunotherapy.